I wait for my body to recoil in horror that I put it all out there, but instead, mild relief settles into my bones.
I can’t talk to my sisters about this without drama—and yes, I’m ignoring a billion texts that have my phone regularly buzzing in my hand, none of which are Athena or Cassadee texting me back with answers—and while I could talk to West, he’s still in his honeymoon phase with Daisy and everything in his world is all women and children are the best thing to ever grace this earth.
Or possibly I’m afraid if I tell my brother that I might be falling for Muffy, it’ll be more real than if I tell my teammates and the bunnies that my relationship status is currently it’s complicated.
Duncan sighs. He grabs me by one arm. Rooster gets me by the other. Klein leaps ahead to open the team lounge door.
“When you say kidnap…” Lavoie mutters as they march me inside.
“I didn’t shove a bag over her head and stuff her in my trunk. I ordered her to get back in the car and then packed a few bags full of her stuff, got her cat, and took her to my place instead of letting her live with her mother one more day.”
Klein snorts. “Dude, that’s not kidnapping. That’s saving.”
“Muffy’s the one with the hot mom, right?”
All of us glare at Rooster, but Lavoie’s the only one to speak. “Say that again, and I’m calling Zeus Berger myself for ideas on making your life hell.”
“ZB! I love that guy.” Rooster whips a Sharpie out of his back pocket. “Started carrying this to sign the fans’ foreheads like he used to.”
Lavoie stops, but Rooster keeps going, which makes them yank me like the rope in tug of war.
Connor’s gaping at Rooster. “Dude. That’s not… You don’t… Fuck, man. I heard a rumor Zeus and his wife are thinking about moving back here—don’t tell Murphy, it’s a surprise—and you can’t take his thing. He’ll kill you. And not like easy kill you, but like, master of torture kill you. You can’t steal his signature move.”
He’s right.
Ares’s twin brother is devious. Both of them are. Ares just hides it better.
And if you pick on one Berger twin, you’re going after both of them.
Rooster Applebottom clearly knows no fear, because he merely grins wider under his cowboy hat. “Dude retired. He’s old news.”
“Been nice knowing you,” I tell him.
“Yeah, back to a problem we can solve.” Klein looks at my crotch. “Still having performance issues?”
“No.” Maybe. Shit.
“Muffy know?” Lavoie asks.
He’s all business with a hint of sympathy, and suddenly everything’s okay.
My teammates have my back. They’re asking about my dick because they care. And if I tell them to have Muffy’s back too, they will.
“She has her own problems,” I reply.
The team captain nods once. He’s divorced. I don’t know details. Happened before I got called up. But I know it means he had in-laws and there was a time in his life when he put someone else as number one above hockey.
Klein pulls us through the foyer and fully into the lounge. Frey and Murphy are already there, both with their families. Frey’s daughter is toddling around between the well-loved couches. Murphy’s burping his little guy while the women laugh about something.
But they all stop when we walk in.
“Tyler!” Kami gives me the universal look of are you okay? “I knew something was weird about Muffy’s date request, but I swear, I had no idea it was for a funeral. I probably should’ve known it was something bigger than a ceremony thing.”
My phone buzzes six more times in my hand, all my sisters.
Guilt creeps over my skin, heating my scalp and face.
I have two awesome families. My sisters might drive me nuts, but they’re there. All married to great guys I could call for backup on anything in an instant. Not that I’d need to. West would have my back first, if Daisy didn’t beat him to it.
And then there’s my hockey family.
Any given moment, I have literally dozens of people I can call for anything from joining me to grab a bite to eat to helping bury a body, plus I’m texting puck bunnies for relationship advice.
Muffy has her mom.
Sure, she has Kami too.
But her mom negates the Kami effect.
Fuck that.
Muffy’s getting my family.
I’m dating her.
And if she doesn’t know it yet, that’s okay. If she doesn’t want in yet, that’s okay too.
But I will date her.
I’m gonna date the shit out of her.
Muffy Periwinkle’s gonna know she’s worth something.
Whether she likes it or not.
25
Muffy
It takes me longer than it should to shower at Tyler’s place.
I’m off my routine. I don’t know which shampoo I should use. He doesn’t have conditioner. It takes me a while to sort out which bag has clean underwear and a nice enough outfit to wear for my screenings this evening. Plus, Rufus keeps trying to gnaw on one of the oranges in the bowl in the kitchen, and I don’t know the best place to put the litter box that the doorman delivers right as I’m finally naked in the bathroom.
Also?
Tyler has guest rooms.
Not one.
Two.
And one of those rooms is decorated in bright colors and stocked with Legos, blocks, board books, and dolls.
He’s a bachelor prepared for his sisters and their kids to stay with him.
Swoon.
Or possibly he secretly has kids of his own that no one knows about.
Unlikely, but there’s safety in pretending he has bigger secrets than that he’s scarred for life because of his zombie grandfather.
Otherwise, I’ll start asking questions.
Things like how long is he expecting me to stay here?
Which is really how long until he gets tired of the chaos of having me in his very neat and tidy home?
I can’t solve that one, so instead, I rush through a shower—yes, I am picturing him in here with me, without me accidentally assaulting his butt with a doorknob first—grab his keys, and head out for my first meeting, doing my damn best to not think about Tyler expecting me to sleep in his bed with him tonight.
Meeting one is a bust—the guy spends the entire time staring at something behind me in the coffee shop, and when I check to see exactly what’s behind me when I leave, I realize it’s a brick wall.
He literally would’ve rather talked to the brick wall.
And it’s not a fear of eye contact thing.
He made plenty of eye contact with everyone from the barista to the firefighter who came in for a to-go order for the station.
I’m willing to overlook social awkwardness. My clients are all on the socially awkward side too.
But something felt abnormally off, so he gets a pass, and I’m also really glad I’m using aliases as I screen candidates.
Candidate number two is a lovely gentleman who lets me buy my own coffee at a separate coffee bar several blocks away from the first, but offers to grab it for me when the barista calls my name. He makes eye contact, tells me about his nieces and nephews, and makes me wish I were having coffee with Tyler instead.